


Number Four

by HandsomeAi



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Murder, Violence, hotline miami 2 - Freeform, miami mutilator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsomeAi/pseuds/HandsomeAi
Summary: One of the many victims of the Miami Mutilator written in gruesome detail.TW: murder, violence, gore, excessive mutilation.----"I'm innocent! They forced me to do it!" he’d written at the crime scene. How much of that was true? None of it, he'd think to himself. It was all a sham, a fraud, a pile of cliches the media could graze on. Still, a lingering question sat in his mind: Was it enough? Even with the added psychoanalysis bullshit he couldn't land the front page. To Pardo it felt like a waste of time, even if it did pad out his victims list it still hadn’t gotten him any more notoriety than the average homicide investigation.





	Number Four

Tonight was the night Manny Pardo had been gearing up for all week. He tried not to do it too much, to make sure they didn't catch onto his trail of call outs. Even then, the lingering conviction didn't weigh too heavy on his mind; Not tonight.

Manny Pardo wasn't a simple man. He had simple tastes and simple goals, but the conflict between his everyday life and his aspirations became too strong for his already overwhelmed moral compass. Deep down, he craved attention: someone to put words to what kind of person he was and how he felt about the world around him. He couldn't tell you who he was without an insincere flatness to his voice, but he knew exactly who the Miami Mutilator was.

In the beginning there were a few mistakes here and there that gave him an air of misfortune, but that all changed after the third murder. Number two might not have made first page but he got a nice little segment in the local paper. That’s when he decided the Miami Mutilator had to go further. Pardo knew what the public wanted, they wanted the type of ultraviolence you only see in late night flicks and he knew exactly how to give it to them. Working on the force all these years he’d seen a lot of messed up shit, but deep down he knew it would never be enough for him to just replicate murders.

"I'm innocent! They forced me to do it!" he’d written at the crime scene. How much of that was true? None of it, he'd think to himself. It was all a sham, a fraud, a pile of cliches the media could graze on. Still, a lingering question sat in his mind: Was it enough? Even with the added psychoanalysis bullshit he couldn't land the front page. To Pardo it felt like a waste of time, even if it did pad out his victims list it still hadn’t gotten him any more notoriety than the average homicide investigation.

This time was going to be different, he'd give them what "they" wanted. The Masked Murderer and the Russo-Colombian drug war would mean nothing once they learned how brutal the Miami Mutilator had become. The Mutilator wasn’t killing drug lords or mafia men he was going after your friends and neighbors. He would become the boogie man the everyday working man feared, and with that fear he could control anything. 

Pardo parked his car, the thoughts moving to the back of his mind as he pulled up at the small apartment complex. He felt around and retrieved his badge from his pocket, knocking on the door, "This is Detective Manny Pardo with the Miami Police Department. We have a few questions for you concerning the recent investigation."

Inside he could hear a shuffling. The door cracked open with the chain lock pulled tight, the resident inspecting the detective. Pardo obliged the prying eyes, revealing his badge as the newfound victim allowed him inside the safety of his home.

"What investigation?" the words finally came. On the contrary there was no investigation- yet.

"The recent drug bust down the street. Your name was mentioned by one of the felons," Pardo could see the man was irritated. Being a low income neighborhood it wasn't out of the ordinary for the cops to knock on your door for some reason or another. That’s just how life was there fair or not, so you just got used to it. Pardo could tell the man was on edge speaking in a more familiar tone, "It's just a routine call, let me see some form of identification and I'll get out of your hair."

The man gave him an understanding nod, relieved from Pardo’s casual statement. "Alright let me just..." the unwary victim said as he went to grab his wallet.

"Take your time," Pardo replied hastily, sliding a pair of cheap gloves over his dirty hands. "I don't have anywhere else to be."

"Will a passport work or-" The words were cut off as Pardo wrapped a chain around the man's throat, pulling back on it digging it deep into his skin. The victim spluttered out a few indistinguishable words, reaching for the chain at first then deciding he had a better chance fighting back. Pardo saw him reach for a glass, using the force of his entire body to press him against the wall to minimize the struggle further.

"Come on don't you wanna be in the papers?" He gave a laboured whisper to 'number four' who continued to struggle under his grip. Sensing the growing risk of escape, Pardo pulled the chain into one hand and started bashing the victim's head against the wall with the other until he finally lost consciousness. The limp body fell to the floor, a large hole in the plaster where it met his blue tinted face. Now it was time to get to work on the body.

The seemingly unphased detective dragged the body into a more satisfying position, realizing that he'd broken the man's nose when colliding it with the wall. "Oh man buddy, I think you should get that checked out. You know I read somewhere that if you break a nose just right little pieces of bone just gets shoved right up into the brain?" he laughed.

The detective slung the chain to the side, pulling out a large knife he had strapped to his thigh. The metal surface reflected his eyes back at him, eyes he couldn't recognize. Was he really the Miami Mutilator or was he some sort of goddamn fraud playing off the success of the masked murderer? He stood there for a moment pondering. The thought angered him that maybe he was just another copycat looking for his claim to fame. Maybe he’d never have anything that was strictly him, nothing he could claim as his own. Pardo gritted his teeth, disgusted by his lack of self, and in a quick motion he shoved the knife directly between the victim’s ribs beginning the tedious task of sawing through his sternum. 

Blood splattered on his face, the knife digging deeper into the still living mans body. After a while he finally split the man open like a raw chicken, the entrails spilling out and soaking the carpet. If he wasn't dead already what Pardo did next would make him wish he was. He grabbed the long string of his lower intestines severing them, wrapping the long, slimy, dripping organ around his neck. 

"Don't you look fucking handsome? I think we need to pretty you up a little more sweetheart." With those words Pardo felt an emptiness. The lack of identity eating away at Pardo’s very soul.

Was it enough? For them, for him, for anyone! Would there ever be enough substance in this display of human desecration to make Manny Pardo feel like a real person? The slightest sense of personality he’d lost long ago. He wanted to be real, he wanted to exist, he wanted something he could understand as genuinely Manny Pardo. All of the confliction and rage hit him at once. Angrily, he dug the knife into victim four’s side. He continue stabbing into the lifeless heap of organs until what was left of the mans liver and kidneys had become a defiled pile of mush.

Pardo took a moment to catch his breath. He started to calm down, locking those feelings into the back of his mind. When he could think clearly he sat back, getting an eyeful of his masterpiece. What was it missing? Pondering like an unsatisfied artist he started searching the poor violated body looking for answers. 

"Perfect", Pardo said with a smile.

Pardo took his knife severing the man's heart, still warm from his recent death, only to reuse it somewhere a little less conventional. He stuck his gloved fingers into the victim's mouth, it being far too early for rigor mortis to set in, holding it wide open. He took the fist sized organ and shoved it into the victim's gaping mouth, his teeth digging into the soft flesh, blood continuing to drain as he forced it into him like a gag. 

Finally, Pardo stood back to get a good look at his creation. The press would have a field day with this: Who wouldn't? This would be the Miami Mutilator’s worst crime yet. He grabbed his chain, making sure to wipe away anything he thought would give him away as he checked the time.

"Fuck, too long." Prolonging his satisfaction with the filleted corpse had put him twenty minutes behind schedule. Promptly, Pardo headed back outside to his car, taking off his gloves and throwing everything in the trunk. He'd make sure those were gone by the morning. 

As he loaded up he took one last glance at the knife. Staring back at him was someone he knew, someone real. Someone that could make up what his identity lacked. If you asked him who Manny Pardo is I'm not sure he could tell you, but the Miami Mutilator? He knew exactly who that was.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as sort of a character study for Pardo. He's very difficult to figure out character wise until I started putting the right pieces together. Please don't take this too seriously but I would like any comments on my first work!
> 
> This writing is not a depiction of the mentally ill but a selfish, dangerous character with little regards for human life.


End file.
